


I Found

by ashapoop



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A lot of pain, Alternative Universe - Mafia, Angst, Emotional Roller Coaster, Gun Violence, Hurt, M/M, My Girlfriend Called Me Crying After Reading This, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 05:27:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11525484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashapoop/pseuds/ashapoop
Summary: He didn’t want to shoot Otabek Altin. There were a million other things that he would rather do than put a bullet into the man before him. He would rather be eating lunch with Viktor Nikiforov by the back dumpsters as Viktor goes on and on about some stupid dog he found abandoned there a week before. He would rather be Yakov’s little bitch again, getting him cigars in back alleys where he’d escape with only a hand brushing against his ass before he pulled a knife on the bastard who touched him. He would rather see his father kill his mother a million times over again with his club ice skate than cause Otabek Altin any pain.





	I Found

The blonde man stirred at the incessant vibrations coming from his cell phone, the buzzing deafening as, with each shake, it got closer to the edge of the bedside table. He pushed himself up slowly, rubbing a tired eye with the heel of his palm, before his eyes fell upon his clock. It was almost four in the morning and that next morning he was supposed to be able to sleep an extra forty minutes. With a new rush of anger seemingly injected into his veins, Yuri grabbed his cell phone and answered. 

  


“There better be a great fucking reason you’re calling me this fucking early.” he growled.

“Hello to you too,” the disgusting purr of Chris came through the speaker. “Popovich and I have a little gift for ya.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? No, I don’t even fucking care. I’m hanging up and shoving my butter knife through your neck when I wake up.”

“No, Yuri, hang on! Come to the south exit, alright? We got him gagged and tied up for ya. Georgi had to channel his inner bad boy to get this one out and ready for you. Might want to shoot him a thanks. After you shoot this fuck, of course.”

“What the fuck,” Yuri groaned, sitting up and running a hand through his tangled hair. “What the fuck are you talking about? If you tied Minami up again I’m going to snap your neck. It’s not hot or funny it’s fucking _weird_.” 

  


From the other end there was a pregnant pause that caused a stir in Yuri, the man now curious as Chris always had a quick tongue. He opened his mouth to ask another question before there was a muffled noise, a sort of groan that caused the tightening of Yuri’s fingers around the device. There were late nights where he would hear that groan from the sharp tug of his hair, or when he would act like a drama queen after showing up late to a motel after a meeting. Yuri made quick work at getting dressed in clothes he’d tossed off haphazardly only hours before, out the door before Chris could speak again. 

  


“We know how much you hate the bastard so we decided to bring Christmas earlier since you always look like someone pissed in your cereal.” 

  


Yuri couldn’t be bothered to respond, instead running now down the hallway as he hung up the phone. The walls seemed to be closing in with each step the blonde took and he was starting to see black dots across his vision. Down the hall, the exit sign illuminated teasingly, red letters that seemed to dance each time he blinked, sashaying backwards as silent laughter filled the halls, closing Yuri in and pushing him back. His limbs were lead and his head was lolling as his palms pressed against the icy door, practically falling outside onto the concrete. Yuri took in a sharp breath, the air biting his skin and already giving his skin a flush. 

  


_They can’t see you like this. You need to look the same as ever_. 

  


He walked slowly towards the corner of the building, rolling his shoulders back as he let his face fall into its constant expression of displeasure. Chris’s laughter floated in the air and Yuri couldn’t help but wonder what be the cause. A moment later, the man got his answer as he heard a loud scolding in a thick Russian accent before the sound of bone crunching bone. The anxiety that Yuri had pushed down came back with a vengeance, begging the man to stop walking and not turn the corner and not see what they were doing to… 

  


_Otabek_. 

  


“ _Enfin_ ,” Chris muttered before walking over to Yuri. “Do you like your surprise?”

“What is this? Why is _Altin_ here? Celestino and Yakov are on good terms right now.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun. Why are you asking questions? I thought you hated Altin. That he was the _biggest asshole_ you’ve ever met.”

“Don’t forget when he said he’d _jump_ at the chance to kill that fucker,” Georgi called from a couple feet away, fiddling with something in his hands. 

  


Yuri watched Chris’s hard gaze before the Swiss man cocked his brow and the blonde felt something churning in his stomach. His eyes jumped to Otabek and tried to read those dark eyes but there was nothing in return. He couldn’t see if his past words had hurt him, and even if he had, he wouldn’t be able to console the man. Otabek was being strong, as strong as he always has been. Yuri, too, stood strong and tall as he tried to pretend that this was nothing, that this was fun for him, even as he glanced at the dark bruises along his jaw and the dried blood at the corner of his pout. The men that invited him here suspected something and the blonde knew it, knew it with everything he had in him. There was no other explanation for Georgi of all people to drag Otabek here so recklessly. 

  


This was a _test_ that Yuri didn’t know the consequences of if he failed. 

  


“This isn’t even the whole thing,” Georgi said, suddenly so much close than Yuri remembered. “I remember a couple months ago at target practice you had Emil sketch a photo of this fucker’s face for you to hang up. Now it doesn’t have to be a game.” 

  


Before Yuri could curse or question what the man was saying, there was a cool weight being pressed into his hand and all the blonde could do was swallow thickly. He knew exactly what it was, the rough exterior of a mistreated M-9 from training. It felt as if the man were lifting a weight, one so unbearable he couldn’t lift it on his own, as he tried to keep his face blank. A stinging in his eyes caused a change and with a quick shake of the head, he twisted the pistol so the tip of his index finger was in its natural position curled against the trigger. Georgi’s mouth was moving but Yuri wasn’t listening to what was nothing more than a soliloquy, instead studying his victim, tied so carefully into the folding chair. Still, his eyes were a void, so dark and empty that Yuri had to stop himself from falling in. If anything, Otabek looked more cool and comfortable than he thought possible in a position like this. 

  


“What are you waiting for?” Chris asked in a commanding tone, taking a step forward as he brushed past the raven haired man that was still talking. “You have the gun, you have the target.” 

  


He didn’t want to shoot Otabek Altin. There were a million other things that he would rather do than put a bullet into the man before him. He would rather be eating lunch with Viktor Nikiforov by the back dumpsters as Viktor goes on and on about some stupid dog he found abandoned there a week before. He would rather be Yakov’s little bitch again, getting him cigars in back alleys where he’d escape with only a hand brushing against his ass before he pulled a knife on the bastard who touched him. He would rather see his father kill his mother a million times over again with his club ice skate than cause Otabek Altin any pain. 

  


 

A hand on his elbow pulled Yuri from his thoughts and Chris was behind him, raising his arm. Though he couldn’t see the man’s face, the blonde knew there was a smirk there. If it were any other circumstance, Yuri would be shoving his elbow back into the older man’s chest, loudly protesting any kind of “sick contact” between the two of them, but now he was completely numb. As his arm was raised completely, it took the man’s gaze to actually notice it was there. His chest felt as if it were about to concave, a quickly eaten dinner bubbling uncomfortably in his stomach. He looked anywhere but Otabek’s face, anywhere but those eyes that he found to be his anchor amongst the constant chaos. Because those eyes would be darker than they ever had been once he pulled the trigger. 

  


“Come on, Yuri,” Chris murmured, breath tickling the Russian’s ear. “It’s time. Pull the trigger. Right through the eyes like you always do.” 

  


There were a million things that Yuri wished he could say aloud. He wanted to say how sorry he was to Otabek, sitting there hopelessly before him, for letting his ignorant mouth getting the man there in the first place. He wanted to tell Georgi and Chris to go, wipe any suspicion that had been planted in their small brains, and let them all go back to how it was before. He wanted to show Otabek what he was really feeling, shed the tears that were so well hidden that it was painful. Most of all, though, Yuri wanted to thank Otabek. He wanted to thank him for showing him a side that was pushed so far down he didn’t know that part of him existed. He wanted to thank him for showing him a side of life with hope and happiness, if only it had lasted for hours at a time. He wanted to thank him for returning a humanity he thought he would never have. He wanted to thank him for being his first and only love. 

  


“Pull it!” 

  


The small blonde jumped and glanced over at Chris, seeing the disgust so apparent in his eyes. He knew, Yuri thought. He knew that there was something going on between the two and if Yuri didn’t shoot Otabek tonight, he’d have a much worse fate under the cold eyes of Celestiano Cialdini. The Swiss man pressed his lips together in a line before cocking his head forward, directing Yuri’s gaze back to his target. The gun in his hands was steady, barrel pointing right where it should be. As he met Otabek’s eyes, the Kazakh man stared back with a solemn expression, lips in their perpetual frown, before Yuri caught the small action, a nod so minute and the closing of eyes that lasted just a beat longer than a blink, that had the man’s knees buckling. 

  


“ _Shoot hi_ \--!” 

  


Christophe was silenced by the crack of the gun, piercing in the silence, and the animalistic noise that left Otabek Altin. His head was tossed back before he glanced down at his shin, shoulder shaking as he tried to break free of the ropes and apply pressure to the wound that was in the wrong place. Yuri stared forward in horror, past the now crooked angle of the gun, at his now wounded lover. His heart was beating so quickly, too quickly for him to not be having some sort of heart attack. Chris and Georgi were talking words that he couldn’t hear, words that were simply bubbles while he felt as if he was sinking, being consumed by water. 

  


“If I killed him, there would be _chaos_ ,” Yuri seethed, rounding on the men. “Now he got fucked and he will heal and things will still be fine. Get the fuck out of here.”

“But--.”

“Get the _fuck_ out of here!” 

  


Yuri watched as the two men looked at one another then retreated towards the building and the youngest man waited just long enough so that he could hear the door, know that they were headed towards their rooms, unable to look at Otabek. When the moment had passed and there was only the noise of Otabek breathing heavily, Yuri dropped the gun and quickly closed the distance between them, extracting the pocket knife from the man’s leather jacket and freeing him from the ropes. As he worked at ripping a strip of fabric from his shirt, Yuri felt tears falling onto his hands, watched the crystalline liquid slowly soak into his filthy skin. 

  


“Beka,” he whispered, voice already shaking. “Beka, I…”  
“I know.” 

  


Yuri worked on tying the fabric a few inches above the wound to try and stop the bleeding, a quick attempt before he would take them to _their_ hospital. As he tied the knot tightly and heard Otabek’s groan, he took a slow breath before looking up at the man. He was sweating, hair in his face and eyes ablaze with an emotion he couldn’t read. He was so beautiful and he was in pain because of Yuri’s cowardice and it only brought on a fresh wave of tears. The blonde ran his hand along Otabek’s bruised jaw, letting out a small whimper as the Kazakh flinched just so. 

  


“Otabek,” Yuri whispered softly, eyes dancing across his face. “Beka, I’m so sorry. I-I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Yura,” he said, Yuri’s heart skipping at the sound. “I know. And I know you had to do it.”

“I hurt you. I fucking shot you. And you… you’re acting like you bumped an elbow. Why… why are you still talking to me like this? Why are you still calling me that?” 

  


Yuri watched, brows furrowed, as Otabek swallowed and his eyes began to dart around. He was nervous, it was apparent. The man before him was someone new, someone he’d only seen a handful of times, and it scared the shit out of Yuri. His fingers softly trailed down the side of Otabek’s neck before curling around the collar of his jacket as he tried to breathe in the comforting scent that was so uniquely Otabek Altin but found nothing. The wind was whipping and all Yuri could smell or taste was metal and salt, feel his nose burn and his heart ache. 

  


“It’s…” Otabek started, pausing to take a breath before his fingers took Yuri’s chin. “It’s because I love you.”

“You… what did you just say? Did you just--?”

“I love you, Yuri Plisetsky.” 

  


The look in his eyes, one of raw honesty and radiance in eyes that should be fading, was something that made Yuri lightheaded. The fingers on Otabek’s collar tightened before, without truly thinking, he pulled the man in for a kiss that was so different than the ones previously shared. A kiss that was once hunger and anger was now softened, slow and meaningful, their moving lips coated in Yuri’s fresh tears. The Russian pulled away for a second to search Otabek’s eyes before letting out a bubbled laugh before kissing him again for only a moment. 

  


“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, I hope y'all liked this. I need some serious help in knowing if I should make this piece and my [motel one shot](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10716555) into a full on fic. Unsure if this is all interesting enough to warrant a whole fic, ya know? Also, hit me the heck up on [Tumblr](http://ruspunk.tumblr.com/) because I love friends and discussing Otayuri. It's my aesthetic.


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